


Forgive, Forgiven

by ausfil



Category: Westlife
Genre: BDSM, Choking, Cock & Ball Torture, Conversations, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Dom/sub, Dominance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Face Slapping, Force Choking, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Masochism, Pain, Porn with Feelings, Punishment, Riding Crops, Scolding, Spanking, Submission, Verbal Humiliation, ballbusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15262767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausfil/pseuds/ausfil
Summary: Shane picked the wrong method to get Nicky's attention this time.





	Forgive, Forgiven

Nicky counts the amount of texts he sent within the last hour.

Fifteen. Fucking fifteen. And Shane hasn’t even bothered to reply or to call him. He grits his teeth as he types again.

**Last chance. It’s already well past 1 AM. If you don’t come home in ten minutes, God knows what I’ll do.**

***

Shane’s phone buzzes for the sixteenth time tonight. Sure, he’s scared and he knows he’ll pay for this, but he shoves it back in his pocket and focuses on the loud music in the club. On the way the floor thumps underneath his feet and through to his veins. On the way pretty boys give him flirty looks as they dance.

At least he feels alive. Knowing that Nicky’s at home worrying about him, doing nothing but thinking about him, that’s enough to make the aftermath worth it, whatever it may be. Because Nicky has barely had time for him recently. Work was at the top of the list, and Shane was starting to feel neglected. It was always work. Work. Work. Then a quick dinner together until Nicky went back in to his home office and ordered Shane to clean up.

Shane had tried to get attention by acting out. He’d occasionally miss out on some chores. Or fuck up an ironing job on Nicky’s favourite shirts. But Nicky didn’t even look like he had the energy to punish him any more than a few half-hearted spanks over the knee. He needed more. This wasn’t enough.

If Nicky didn’t want to care, then fine. Shane was going to make him care.

He had called Kian out for a proper night, and Kian had asked if he was going to get in trouble for this later. Shane had replied with “probably”.

Nevertheless, here he still was. An hour after Kian had already left with another lad at his hip. An hour of trying to ignore the constant foreboding buzzing of his phone and relishing the fact that Nicky is at home right now, thinking about him and only him. He just wanted some attention.

It’s almost two in the morning, way past his curfew, by the time Shane decides to leave the club and take a taxi back home. The reality slowly starts to sink in. Nicky… Nicky will probably fucking murder him. Sweat fills his palms as this car brings him closer to his death.

When he ambles out of the car, he notices the lights are still on. Well, fuck. He’s probably not going to be able to move tomorrow. He swallows hard and forces himself to take a few deep breaths.

The moment he steps inside and closes the front door, his back is shoved up against it. He’s too surprised to even scream. A hand wraps around his throat. He sees blue eyes glowing in a bloody red underneath this dim light. His toes curl in.

“Where the _fuck_ were you?” Nicky growls.

Shane realises he’s made a mistake. A big mistake. The anger, the disappointment, the hurt studded in Nicky’s eyes is not the type of attention he craved. He didn’t want to hurt the person he loved with the life of him. This isn’t what he wanted. But the milk had spilt already, and guilt flash-floods over his chest as he feels the first layer of tears brim in his eyes.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I asked.” The hand tightens and Shane can’t _breathe_. Not that he deserves a clear breath. He whimpers as his nails dig into the wood of the door. “Where. Were. You.”

“I… At a club, I…” Shane can’t bring himself to look into Nicky’s eyes. It’s too painful.

“At a club,” Nicky repeats with pure venom swirling on his tongue. “You have no respect for me, do you?”

“I do.” That, he can say with pride. “I really do.”

“You’re out without telling me about it. You ignore my texts. You come home at two in the morning when you know your curfew is twelve. Does that sound like _respect_ to you?”

The grip around his throat couldn’t possibly get tighter, and Shane begins to feel a bit lightheaded. He still doesn’t feel like he deserves a breath though.

Before he can respond, Nicky raises his other hand, and Shane squeezes his eyes shut, expecting the hardest slap of his life. But no. The hand runs through his hair instead. A gentle breeze that eases the muscles in his shoulder for a bit. It feels like a hug to his shivering soul.

“You had me worried sick, Shane.” Nicky croons and loosens his grip. Shane lets his eyelids cautiously flutter open through heavy breaths just trying to suck air back into his deflated lungs.

“I’m sorry.” Shane hears his voice waver the longer Nicky’s fingers are in his hair. “I fucked up. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry. Punish me. Please. I-“

The hand that was just smoothing his hair pulls back again and slaps him across his cheek this time. There it is. The sharp sound echoes through the rumbling structures of their house, and Shane believes an actual _blade_ cut his cheek.

“Thank you,” Shane whispers despite the soreness. And he means it.

The same hand strikes again on the same spot. Even harder this time.

A grunt escapes Shane’s tight passage just before he whispers another “thank you”.

Nicky sighs, and that is like a dagger to his heart. Disappointment blowing in the wind through Nicky’s breath, Shane wants to make himself bleed for forgiveness. When both hands leave his body, he misses the slaps to his face. He needs more. This isn’t enough.

“Help me understand why you did this tonight.” 

“I…” Shane doesn’t know if it’s okay to talk about this now. But Nicky sounds sincere. _Looks_ sincere. Nicky wants to understand, but Shane doesn’t know how to say it without hurting him more. “Can I be honest?”

“You can.” Still sincere.

“It’s just… I felt alone.” With courage that Shane didn’t know he had, he looked up and into Nicky’s eyes. “I felt like you didn’t care about me as much anymore. When I needed you, you weren’t there. You were always drowning in work, and I know you love me, but I didn’t feel like a priority anymore.” The blue in Nicky’s eyes seem bluer than ever, and he’s afraid that he hurt him, but it needs to be said.

“Shane, you’re always my top priority. I’m working a lot so we can have a stable future. A house. A family. Everything.”

“I know. I do. And I appreciate it,” Shane reaches out to grab Nicky’s hand that squeezes back like a reflex. He allows himself a small smile. “But I’d much rather have more of you than money. I… I _need_ you. I need you to put me in my place when I’m acting out. I need you to show me that you love me. I need you to do those things, as much as you need me to submit.”

Nicky nods slowly, information sinking in and softening his gaze. “Thank you for telling me. I needed to hear that. I’m sorry.” he leans forward to kiss the cheek that he had slapped moments ago. “You’re the most important thing in my life, love. I promise I’ll try to focus more on you. I promise you that.”

“It means a lot,” Shane returns the kiss.

“But you still had no excuse to disobey me like that.” Nicky’s voice gets rough again. He deserves it. “If you have a problem, you come and talk to me about it. You don’t do _this_ , Shane. You just don’t. I will not allow it.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles for what feels like the twentieth time. It doesn’t relax Nicky’s voice at all though. “Punish me, please.” He speaks from the pit of his heart, and Nicky appreciates it.

“Go strip and wait for me on the couch.”

Nicky turns to head to the bedroom and Shane moves in a heartbeat. His chance to redeem himself; he will not take it for granted. He removes every piece of cloth from his body and folds them neatly on the floor before he sits down and waits.

“Hands behind your head,” Nicky says as he walks back out. Shane darts his arms up, noticing the riding crop in Nicky’s palm. He feels like his stomach is caught in his throat.

The leather tip taps a command against his knee, and Shane gets it. He spreads his legs wide until Nicky nods his approval. Then the leather tip glides across his thigh. Taps against his balls. Okay. Shane definitely gets it. This isn’t going to be too fun.

“One for every ten minutes you were late. Calculate it.”

“Um,” Shane’s mind races despite the riding crop prodding his balls like a storm warning. “Twelve.”

“Plus,” Nicky pauses as he slides the implement up to the head of his cock. Shane feels like he’s being choked all over again. “One for every text message you ignored.”

Fuck. Shane hadn’t counted that. Cold sweat breaks in his palm. “Um, I… I’m sorry, I don’t-“

The riding crop strikes down on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Shane flinches. Doesn’t make a single sound though.

“It was sixteen,” Nicky enunciates. “Calculate.”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Make it thirty for disobeying me. Then I’ll forgive you.”

Shane nods and braces himself. Thirty sounds like a lot. He kind of wants to cry.

“If those hands come off your head or if you close your legs, we’re starting over.”

The first hit lands on his left testicle. Then straightaway on the right. _Fuck_ ing hell.

Shane feels his stomach churn. And even more so when the beats success quickly one after the other – a nauseous wave overtaking his guts every time the leather tip burnt a trail of fire from his balls all the way to the sensitive head of his shaft. Shane thinks he could pass out soon. This is expert. Precise. Well thought out by Nicky who systematically whips it down on the tender spots that he knows hurts the most.

When the count rises to fifteen, Nicky stops and slowly slithers the implement up and down the abused flesh that had hardened. Even the lightest of touches stings now, but Shane craves more.

“Look at you,” a swift slap flicks against his inner thigh again, and accompanied by the mocking tone of Nicky, Shane thinks he’s enjoying it a little too much when he really shouldn’t be. “Pathetic.”

That word hurts. It’s humiliating to his core. So he doesn’t know why he’s getting harder and harder.

“Absolutely pathetic, you.”

It’s still humiliating. He wants to hear it again though.

Nicky gets down on his knees and instead of a leather square, a tongue teases the base of his cock instead. It isn’t what he expected at all, but he isn’t going to say no. He moans and bites down on his bottom lip when the talented mouth sucks on his tender balls. His skin is so sore, but Nicky’s saliva is the medicine. The fiery gaze that meets his eyes and burns it; the painkiller.

“This was meant to be a punishment.” Nicky’s fingers swat against the place that he had just sucked, and Shane hisses without trying flinch away. “You weren’t supposed to enjoy this. You weren’t supposed to get hard.”

“I’m sorry,” he utters through a clumped throat. He doesn’t miss Nicky’s smirk either. Or the final teasing flick of his tongue before standing up. The riding crop comes into his vision again, and he tenses in a joyful fear.

“Filthy. It’s not going to be as enjoyable now.” the taunt in Nicky’s voice is almost too much, and when his balls are struck again, he has to yell at himself in his head to not cum without permission. But he feels like he’s close. Dangerously close.

But Nicky’s right. As usual.

When they pass twenty, Shane doesn’t know how much more he can take. The pain is overwhelming. His entire body is _screeching_ and with every lick of the crop, a tear escapes his system and begs to stop this torture. But Shane doesn’t listen. What he listens to instead is Nicky’s voice putting him on the same level as the floor.

“Filthy.” _Crack_. “Pathetic.” _Crack_. “Brat.” _Crack_.

Shane wants to wipe the tears off of his face. He wants to stroke his leaking length. He changes his mind when Nicky tosses the crop aside and kneels back down, the same tongue blessing him in the same way as before. He tells himself to hang on just a little longer.

“Last five,” Nicky states in the midst of caressing his purpling balls. “Count for me.”

Almost at the same time, Shane nods, and Nicky slaps down with his hand.

Shane cries out before muttering a “one.”

Nicky kisses the head of his cock before the second hit. “Two.”

“I promise I’ll do everything I can to dedicate more time to you.” Another kiss. Shane wants to cry even more. He’s definitely loved. _Slap._

“Fuck- Three.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner. I should have.” _Slap_.

“Ah!” Shane jerks forward a little, but his legs stay as open as ever. “F… Four.”

“I love you more than anything.” _Slap._

The last slap was the hardest, and he really feels like his balls have imploded. The painful throb washes his brain red. He chokes out an arduous “five” and remains in position, even when Nicky sits beside him to kiss the tearstains on his cheek. Eventually, Nicky’s hand guides his arms back down and his legs close together, and Shane thinks his arms might be dead.

“You did well. I forgive you,” Nicky whispers in his ear and it’s possibly the warmest feeling in the world. “Do you forgive me?”

Shane looks up into Nicky’s eyes and allows the sincerity to wash over his soul. He tries not to cry again. “I do,” he whispers back. “Thank you for tonight. I really needed that.”

“I did too.”

Nicky’s proud smile means more than the entire world right now.


End file.
